


Roadhouse talk.

by Hectatess



Series: SPN Character Appreciation Weeks [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Harvelle's Roadhouse (Supernatural), Heaven
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:08:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28508709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hectatess/pseuds/Hectatess
Summary: What if some of the characters, who had a brief brush with each-other, met up later and talked about their experience with the Winchesters?Let’s see who Ronald Reznick meets...Banner made by @notfunnymajik on Tumblr
Series: SPN Character Appreciation Weeks [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2055000
Kudos: 4





	Roadhouse talk.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NotfunnyDean (IronEyes)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IronEyes/gifts).



> Another week for the Supernatural Character Appreciation Weeks. Week 5: Ronald Reznick and Victor Henriksen

Following the lanky guy with a mullet, Ron tried not to let the many conspiracies that flooded his mind take root. Usually everyone Ron met was someone he knew, if only by face, yet this strange guy had come waltzing into the bank, saying he had a beer and a story, and claiming that Ron was dead and this calm day at the bank wasn’t real. 

If Ron was honest, he had an inkling. That guy with the long, black coat and the neck tattoo only came by every third Tuesday to deposit his paycheck, yet he had been there every day. Same with the mom with the toddler who somehow always threw up all over her front , just as she… wait a minute. “Dude.. hey!”

The lanky man stopped. “You figured it out?” His husky voice sounded amused, rather than alarmed. Ron studied his back for a minute, unsure if he should go on. The whole man-droid… Ron’s head started to pound. Wasn’t that a dream? He’d just  _ seen _ Juan. On cam, no weird eyes. But somehow the idea seemed more… solid, more factual than the whole day today. 

“Am I being Groundhog Day-ed?”

The lanky man turned, his slightly droopy eyes crinkled in mirth. “Good on ya, Ronald. You did figure it out.” He clapped Ron on the shoulder. Ron glared at him. Lately he hated his full name. He even stopped calling himself that. People who used it, didn’t believe him when he… A stabbing pain shot through his head. Why wasn’t his brain cooperating? The other guy patted his shoulder gently. “Takin’ a little detour, my man. Hit my safe spot, then we can talk.”

Safe spot? So there was something brewing here. Ron nodded and ploughed on behind the guy. They stopped at a nondescript stone wall with some weird graffiti on it. The guy mumbled something and a door appeared. Pushing the door wide open, the guy gestured at Ron to go through. Ron shrugged and stepped in, finding himself in a dingy back room with some beanbags. The guy grinned and shut the door. “So, Ronald Reznick,” he started, but Ron held up a hand.

“Sorry. Just… call me Ron, please?” 

A smirk ticked up the guy’s mouth. “Really… ok. Ron. I’m Ash. And I think I know why you hate your full name.” His smirk grew as Ron gaped. Ash actually chuckled as he started to shake his head. “That Dean… always finding a way in your heart…”

Dean… why did that name feel familiar? And… good. Happy, even if...even if the last time, he did call Ron, Ronald. But… that was a nightmare, right? Ron shook his head. He’d better get this guy Ash to talk. “Yeah? Why? And who is this Dean?”

“Dean Winchester,” Ash said. “Dean and Sam Winchester.” Sam. Less fond feelings, like he used to be an asshole, who only got better later. Ron nodded slowly, his head still throbbing. “Those two came into your life, following a weird coincidence, or odd experience, and they tell you that you’re not crazy. That there is something out there. Right?”

Ron bit his lip and stretched his back. It had started to burn, like something hot grazed it. “And despite their efforts, you got killed. I read up on you, Ron, before getting you. Killed by a sniper. Of all the unnecessary deaths, yours was…” Ash shook his shaggy head. “... just rude, man.” He sank into a beanbag and sighed. “You’d think that after eons of writing, one could write a character out in a better, more rewarding way. But no. God just decided you were done in the story. Bang! End of Ron.” 

Ron winced. His headache was clearing and he started remembering. “Dean… he… he believed me. Well… didn’t sell me bullshit about it not being real. He told me, and I felt.. validated. Sam was rude. Trying to make me feel stupid. He only stopped when I was in the know.”

Ash nodded. “Young Sam was a bit… overprotective. He felt that not telling anybody about the supernatural was the safest. I bet Dean saw that differently. That knowing the truth would be way better than believing the half-truth and getting killed by a monster.”

Ron frowned as his mind threw up a disturbing image. “Did… did I try to kill Dean?”

Ash sighed. “Yeah… Stupid demons. They raised you from the dead to start the apocalypse.” Ron objected. He never wanted to hurt Dean. He  _ liked _ the guy. He didn’t blame him for getting shot. That was his own mistake. Dean had  _ told _ him to stay out of the light… Ash nodded at his vehement defence. “I know, dude. But the Witnesses were raised as a tool of evil. The raising took any slumbering feelings of resentment, how small they might be, and blew them out of proportions. Every single one I spoke to afterwards, said they were grateful to the Hunter. That at least no others got killed by the monster. You… no monster death. Why would you be a Witness. That’s what I don’t get.”

Ron frowned. Why indeed… unless… “What if we were picked not because of our lingering resentment, but because our deaths preyed on the Hunter’s minds? If  _ they _ couldn’t forgive  _ themselves _ for our death?” 

Ash’s face lit up. “That’s it! Of course! Thanks dude! C’mon! I’m takin’ you to Ellen’s. All the beer you want! I gotta pick up another dude!” He jumped up and pulled Ron along to another door, no graffiti on this one, and into a dimly lit corridor. Another door, also clean of tags, and the dimly lit corridor became a dimly lit bar. “Ash! New customer?” an older lady with gentle eyes called. 

“Ellen: Ron Reznick. The guy from the ‘laser-eyes’ story.” Ellen’s round face brightened and she waved Ron over. 

“What’s your poison? I got whatever you like. Perks of Heaven. Downside: no buzz. Upside: no hangover either!” Ron ducked his head. This lady was sweet, like his momma.

Which was probably why he felt safe enough to place his order. “Tequila. My mom warned me about getting drunk, but if I’m not getting drunk I can order that, right?” Ellen laughed, winked and put the effects on the counter. 

Later, (who knew how much later, because somehow time didn’t work here. The clock was stationary, the dim lighting didn’t shift.) Ash came back in from the corridor, a bald, dark skinned guy in tow. “Ellen! Meet Victor Henriksen.” Hè didn’t clarify, like he had with Ron, but Ellen nodded. 

“Welcome. I’m sorry for what happened to you,” she said solemnly. Henriksen shrugged and slid onto the stool next to Ron.

He rubbed the weird mark on his right palm. Ron bit his lip not to gasp. He quickly put his hand over his own mark. Henriksen smiled at Ellen and asked for a beer. Once Ellen turned away, Ron cleared his throat. When Henriksen turned around, Ron bent over and uncovered his hand. “Are you a Witness too?”

Henriksen’s face got grim, but he nodded. “Yeah. This Ash guy? He told me it wasn’t my fault, and that I was manipulated, but I still feel horrible. I almost killed Dean…” He looked saddened by the idea. His beer got shot in one go, and he looked like he needed more.

Ron offered him a tequila, which he happily chugged. “I know that one, man. And Dean is just such a nice guy. He’s the only one who never made me feel like I’m crazy.” Henriksen looked away, playing with the empty shot glass. 

“I used to want to put them away, the Winchesters,” he admitted softly, not looking at Ron. “I was there, you know, when you died. Saw your body. I’m… I’m sorry. I gave the order to take you out. ‘If you got eyes, take the shot’.” He ducked his head. “I didn’t know, man. I didn’t know about the monsters. Dean, he told me how you figured out the shifter’s plan, and how they told you the truth. I’m sorry. You should’ve lived to hunt with them.”

Ron chuckled and poured them both another shot. “I don’t think so. Those two? They’re the cream of the crop. Fully trained on each other. They can have a full conversation with two looks and a head nod. But,” Ron backtracked. “When did you have a heart to heart with those guys, if you were trying to lock them up? They don’t seem like the kind that have a heart to heart with people who hunt them down.”

Henriksen gave a sad twitch with his mouth. “Few hours before I was killed, actually. Not going into details here, but I got wise on what those two actually do. We had some time to kill, waiting on a demon army, and we got to discuss what we had been through.”

Ron wanted to stop him and ask about that demon army, but he kept to himself. He felt that if the man wanted him to know, he’d hear it. “So, you talked about me?” he asked instead. 

Henriksen nodded. “I could tell it weighed on Dean’s mind. He said you were a good guy, sadly mixed up in the murk of the supernatural world. Guess that makes two of us now, huh?”

Ron looked around the room, and spotted several people who gave him a knowing nod. Others just looked like everyday Joes and Janes, but they had the same look in their eyes as he had noticed Sam and Dean had. “I think that might be more than just us two…”


End file.
